


beg me for it

by hoosierbitch



Category: White Collar
Genre: BDSM, Barebacking, Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Fingering, M/M, Orgasm Control, Painplay, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-06
Updated: 2010-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-14 00:20:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoosierbitch/pseuds/hoosierbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter gives Neal what he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	beg me for it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ashcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashcat/gifts).



> Written for whitecollarswap.

“Beg me for it.”

“I want it, Peter. I want you.”

“What, exactly, do you want me to do?”

Neal was already shaking. The large dildo was holding him open and vibrating against his prostate like it was trying to shake him apart from the inside out. The strongest one the store had had in stock, and Peter just couldn’t get enough of what it was doing to Neal.

“Fuck me. Oh, god, Peter – ”

He shoved his cock in Neal's mouth. Hard, deep, until Neal started to choke on it. Waited another second and then pressed in even deeper; until Neal's throat opened and enveloped his cock in tight, wet, heat. Held it there until the sound of Neal gagging was drowned out by the pounding of his own heartbeat and the insistent hum of the vibrator.

He looked down at Neal, on his knees and in his bedroom, naked and sweating, shaking. Beautiful and breaking apart, begging for more.

“Don't get lazy, Neal.” He turned up the power on the vibe and pulled Neal in until his nose brushed against his pelvis. “Use your tongue. Move – _yes_.” Neal's tongue rolled against the underside of his cock and his convulsive swallowing drew Peter’s cock further in. Soon his hands were wrapped tight around the back of Neal's head, Neal’s nose was pressed so hard against his body that he could barely breathe.

He fucked in and out lazily. Traced the head of his cock over Neal’s swollen lips, pressed his thumb against Neal’s cheek to feel his cock move inside his mouth, fucked all the way in and then placed his left hand on Neal's throat. He caressed the unnatural curve of Neal's elegant body; admired the way it reshaped itself around his cock. The way Neal opened for him, bent for him.

He’d learned the way Neal’s throat moved when he swallowed down his nerves, the way the bunch of muscles in the curve of his jaw jumped when he was frightened. The way he had licked his lips ( _so swollen now_ ) when he had first asked Peter for exactly this. The way he hadn’t quite made eye contact ( _eyelashes clumped with tears_ ), and the way he’d gasped when Peter had leaned in, and said yes, and kissed him.

Eight months gone by and he knew Neal’s body like his own, could take it apart with the same precision he used on his guns, had learned how to put him back together just as carefully.

"Who would ever guess that you were such a cockslut," he murmured, pulling out halfway. Neal's face was slick with spit and tears and Peter's precum.

"Fuck yourself with the dildo while you blow me."

Neal obeyed as quickly as he could, but he was already worn out – the evidence of his first orgasm drying on his thighs. He grasped the plug in one shaky hand and started moving.

The uneven sound of the vibrator fucking in and out of Neal's body was…pleasing. Amusing. Neal’s dick was already dripping – so easy, so greedy, so responsive. He turned down the vibrator so that it would last longer.

He didn’t want Neal to come.

Yet.

He shoved his cock back in Neal's mouth and Neal - recoiled. Instinctive or defensive or accidental – it didn’t matter. That was not acceptable behavior.

Neal was kneeling between his legs, off-balance from Peter’s step forward, clutching onto Peter’s hips to keep from falling over. "If I can't trust you to follow directions, Neal, we'll just have to change the rules a little."

He pulled out of Neal’s mouth, walked around behind him, and shoved the dildo forward. Hard. Twisted it around a couple of times until Neal was thrusting backwards, wanton, desperate.

“Lie down on the bed. On your back, head over the edge. And then open your mouth.”

Neal moved like a colt; his legs wobbling beneath him. About an inch of the dildo was visible between his legs,, torturing his oversensitive flesh.

He waited about a minute after Neal got into position. His limbs spread at his sides, his mouth wide open.

“You look like a blowup doll,” he said quietly. He stepped forward and jerked Neal's cock a couple of times, kept going until Neal's hips started to twitch. “Bad cockslut,” he chided, slapping Neal's cock with an open palm. Neal’s whole body flinched, that time, and Peter used that momentary distraction to ease his way back into Neal's mouth. Into his throat, into Neal's body, into his toy.

Neal didn't have to do anything in this position. Just let his mouth hang open and try not to suffocate. Let Peter fuck him and try his hardest not to come from the giant dildo massaging his prostate, or the insults that never failed to make his cheeks flush and his cock harden.

Neal gagged when Peter came. His cheeks bulging, his lips obscenely stretched, his body shaking as Peter shot deep in his throat. He looked like he was drowning, dying, coming – he swallowed and Peter fucked in for a few last, lazy strokes, enjoying the last moments of pleasure, smiling at the way Neal kissed his cock when he pulled out.

He wiped away Neal's tears and the drops of come that had spilled out the corners of his mouth before he kissed him.

"Do you want to come?"

Neal nodded quickly, lifted his hips slightly off the bed. “Yes, Peter. Please.” So eager.

“Hands and knees,” he ordered. He shifted Neal’s body until his thighs were spread as wide as he wanted, and then moved a stack of pillows beneath his hips. Neal wouldn’t be able to support his own weight for much longer.

It was hard to take the dildo out. Not literally – it was slick with lube and Neal's hole was swollen and open – it was hard to take it out because Neal made such pretty noises with it in. With the speed cranked up and a firm grip on the base, just the right angle as he stroked it inside, just the right twist as he pulled it back out.

But he had bigger plans for Neal. For the loose hole that was still begging him for _more_.

“Close your eyes. If you try to look, I will spank you, blindfold you, and won't let you come until Thursday. Got it?” He stroked Neal's back when he nodded. “Good boy.” He grinned when he felt Neal's muscles shiver under his hand.

He added more lube before continuing. Squeezed the clear liquid into Neal's eager hole and then thoroughly coated the toy. He wiped his hands on a towel, teased his thumb against Neal's hole just to watch it twitch, and then started to insert the first bead.

He chuckled as Neal shifted on the mattress, his hole contracting, his body confused. And kept pressing it against Neal's hole, gently, until it opened. He waited patiently for Neal's body to accept the unfamiliar object. And as soon as it had, he pulled it back out. And then he did it all over again. Over, and over, until Neal was rocking his hips back, pleading for more than the inconsistent pressure of the same bead teasing at his rim and brushing against his prostate, promising fullness before stretching him wide and leaving him wanting.

When Neal started to moan, incoherent and desperate, back slick and arched underneath his hand, he left the first bead in and started on the second. Just a bit bigger, the string connecting the two leaving him just enough slack that he could play with it. Pushing it against his perineum, dropping it on his balls.

The third one was a challenge. Much bigger than the first, wider at the diameter than anything Neal had taken before. About the size of Peter’s fist, and, yes, he was getting such ideas, watching Neal’s body unfurl like it had just been waiting for Peter to ask it to open.

He'd only ever fucked Neal with dildos, before. Nothing like this. The beads would stretch him for a second and then his rim would close, and he’d get the fullness without the pressure at his hole. That would come later.

It only took a minute for Neal's body to open and accept the third bead. Instead of playing with this one, Peter moved on to the fourth.

He knew Neal could take it. Knew what warning signs to look for it he couldn’t. He wrapped one hand around Neal's cock and pressed the bead against his hole with the other.

Neal was gasping for air, his hands in fists around the tangled comforter. But he didn't stop rocking back against Peter, didn't stop whimpering in the small, pleading voice that drove Peter mad. Saying Peter’s name like a mantra, a prayer, like Peter had everything Neal wanted along with the power to withhold it.

Neal took the fourth bead with a cry. Peter could see the black rubber inside Neal's body – his hole wouldn't close anymore. Feeling generous, he let Neal expel the bead, his overtaxed body trying to protect itself.

And then he pushed it back in. Let Neal try to fight to hold it in and fail two more times, his whole body shaking, his cock dripping.

Then he pushed the beads back in, and started fucking Neal with his fingers. "You're so full, baby."

But he could be fuller.

He worked three fingers in and gazed speculatively down at Neal's body. "Wasn't going to try this yet, but you're just so ready for it. So eager to get a cock back inside you. Isn't that right?"

Neal shuddered when he realized what Peter meant. What the curious fingering was heralding, what the new slick of lube was preparing him for, the sound of the vibrator starting up again.

"No, Peter, you can't," Neal pleaded.

Peter stopped.

Neal was not allowed to tell him no. Neal was allowed to ask for a break, Neal was allowed to cry and whimper and scream, Neal was allowed to safeword - but Neal was _not_ allowed to say _no_.

He dropped the lube, spread Neal's ass apart with one hand, and spanked his fucking hole with the other. Hard, over and over, until Neal was writhing in his arms. Until the beads came out of his tense, convulsing opening, drawing louder and louder screams from his wrecked body. He thrust four fingers in Neal's hole until his knuckles were all that kept his hand from sliding inside.

“If you tell me to stop, you better _mean_ it. And you better use your fucking _safeword_ , Neal, it's there for a reason. It's there to protect you. You want to _whine_ at me and we can go back to the office. You want to shut up and take what I give you, you keep your mouth _closed_.” He twisted his hand and then withdrew it to lay one last hard slap on Neal's red hole. “What's it going to be?” His mouth twisted as he listened to Neal sob. Pity or anger or lust, he wasn’t sure – maybe all three, all three and so much more. A wave of emotions that he’d learned to ride carefully.

“Fuck me,” Neal whimpered. “Please.”

He would. But first – first, he would take care of his lover.

If Neal had said no, it was because he was close enough to his limits that he’d forgotten he had them. Neal almost never made mistakes like that anymore. Not like when they'd first started and every other word out of his mouth had been _wait_.

He lifted Neal further up the bed, spread his cheeks wide, and licked his hole like he was starving for it. And he _was_ starving for it. For the noises that Neal made, for the way he said Peter's name like it was holy, for the way his body responded to his touch like a perfectly tuned instrument. Starving for the heat of Neal's flesh under his fingers and against his tongue, forbidden and familiar.

He rimmed Neal until his whimpers became cries, and then scraped his teeth against the swollen flesh, kissed the hurt away, and repeated it over and over until Neal's body shook, tensed, and orgasmed. With nothing touching his cock but air.

He kept going until Neal's cock was fully soft and he'd collapsed from his arms to his shoulders, hips falling down to rest on the stack of pillows.

Then he picked up the beads and started all over again.

The first two slid easily into Neal’s pliant body. The third had him moaning, the fourth had him clutching onto Peter’s forearms, head thrown back – elegant neck exposed – tangled sounds choking out of his open mouth.

And after the fourth bead was in he started to work in his fingers alongside them. Neal’s body shook with the sensation, but after a few minutes he managed to shift back up onto his hands and knees. He set his shoulders and held steady, pressing back against Peter's hand.

It was...touching. That Neal was trying so hard. Reassuring, to know that Neal wanted it just as bad as he did. A reminder that he was doing this as much ( _sometimes more_ ) for Neal as he was doing it for himself.

After a few more minutes of playing with the swollen skin inside Neal’s hole – tugging on the string, playing with the beads – he withdrew his fingers, wiped his hands on the towel, and picked up the vibrator.

He went slowly. Two inches forward, one inch back. He withdrew completely a couple of times and shifted the beads with his fingers to make room, to give Neal time to catch his breath. Realized after a couple of minutes that Neal was hard again.

 _Whore_ , he thought. _Mine_.

“Tell me what it feels like.”

“It – I – ” Neal cried out when Peter pressed halfway in, sobbed when he kept going, bit out sounds that didn't resemble any words that Peter'd ever heard before. “Hurts,” Neal whimpered when Peter leaned over his back and kissed his shoulder.

He bit Neal’s neck and pinched his nipples, called him a slut and a whore and dirty, meant every single word and also _beautiful_.

When he was finally able to slide the vibe all the way in on one thrust and pull it out without Neal’s fingers going white-knuckled from gripping the covers, he started twisting it. Pressing at different angles inside Neal’s body and marveling at the way his overtaxed muscles danced underneath his skin.

“Oh, Peter – you’ve got to, got to stop, I’m gonna – ”

He shoved the vibe all the way in and knelt behind Neal’s body, pressing his hip against the base of the vibe, his cock rutting against his hip. “You telling me no again, Neal?”

“I think – oh, Peter, I’m gonna – please…”

“What are you going to do? Going to come again, real pretty for me?” Neal usually wasn’t able to come again this quickly – especially since he’d already come twice. But Neal had never been this full, this fucked before.

“No.”

“I will spank you raw, put a ring on you, and fuck you till you pass out if you tell me no _one more goddamn time_.”

“I think – it’s pressing, Peter. Against – inside – ”

“That’s the point, baby.” Neal’s whole body tensed and shuddered.

“I have to go,” Neal whispered.

“You want to leave?”

Neal just sobbed, sobbed and rocked back against Peter’s body, fucking himself like a mindless machine. “Gotta piss,” Neal said, in a strained, broken voice. “Peter. I think I’m – I think I – ”

He reached one hand around Neal’s waist and grabbed his cock. It was soaked, dripping, pulsing with each involuntarily motion of his body. He could feel it dribbling out of Neal’s cock – slowly, it was – he looked at his hand. It was semen. “You’re not pissing, baby. You’re coming.” And Neal was too fucked to know the difference. “Those beads giving you a prostate massage, Neal? They hitting your sweet spot?” Neal whimpered and hunched forward.

He fucked Neal with the vibe until Neal was too tired to protest when he twisted it around, didn’t whimper when he shoved it in, when his hole didn’t close if he pulled it out.

Neal was finished – but Peter was still hard.

He turned the vibe off and set it on the bedside table. Then he pulled the beads out, one by one – and that got Neal’s attention. He was probably coming again. From the tortured expression on his face, Peter’d guess he was coming dry.

After the last bead was out, Neal smiled at him. Small, private, sweet. Neal smiled at him like he thought Peter was finished.

His smile twisted into a pained gasp when Peter slid his cock into Neal’s greedy hole, picked up the vibe, and started to work it in alongside his dick.

Neal was writhing almost before he figured out what Peter was doing. Clawing at the mattress, trying to crawl away. Peter held him steady, turned on the vibe, and waited for Neal to calm down. It only took a few minutes before Neal was gasping like he was suffocating, rocking back and forth like he was being carried by unseen waves, the shaking muscles in his thighs trembling under Peter’s hands.

He knew he was bruising Neal's hips. Knew he was probably biting through his own cheek, his jaw was clenched so tightly. He knew he wasn't going to last long. He could feel each ridge of the vibe as his cock slid further inside Neal's body. So much tighter than Neal had ever been before – tighter than their first time. Perfect.

“Neal – tell me you want this.”

Neal sobbed and shook his head. Peter brushed Neal’s sweaty bangs from his forehead, groaning at the new burst of pleasure that his change in position brought.

“If you want me to stop, tell me now, and I’ll stop. No harm, no foul.”

He waited for Neal to catch his breath. Turned the vibe off, and was about to start pulling it out when Neal stopped him. “Just – just go slow.”

“So you do want me to fuck you, baby?”

Neal looked broken, wrecked – transcendent.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“With the – with the vibe. Jesus Christ…but do it slow, and – can I see you?”

“Face to face?” Neal nodded and Peter pulled out long enough to shift Neal onto his back. Then he eased his way back in, turned the vibe on low, and started to press it against Neal’s hole again.

The first inch was the hardest. Stretching Neal’s hole twice as wide as it was used to, wider than the fourth bead had been. His bruised rim was white and red and taut under Peter’s curious fingers.

“You good?”

Neal’s sweaty hands moved from his sides, down his stomach, between his legs, and then around Peter’s hands. Together, they pressed the vibe into his hole.

Neal was the one who turned up the speed. After that, his cock started to harden again – Peter guessed it was pressing against his prostate – and he went limp and pliant on the bed.

After a couple minutes of stretching Neal as much as he could, gently sliding the vibe back and forth, stroking Neal’s balls because his cock was too sensitive to touch – he started fucking Neal as hard as he could.

Until the mattress was squeaking and the bed was pounding against the wall, Neal’s whole body shaking with each thrust, and, yes, coming, though there was nothing left of his body to give.

He kissed Neal like he was claiming his territory, like he was trying to _prove_ something, like if he fucked hard enough and kissed long enough and stroked Neal's sore cock tightly enough that he could - that he could -

Neal's legs fell open around his hips, and he pulled them up and over his shoulders. Set the pace and fucked Neal like he really was a doll, a toy, there only for his pleasure. Put one hand on Neal's stomach and, _Christ_ , could feel the hardness in his belly. He pressed his palm against Neal's swollen stomach and fucked his sore, swollen hole.

He came to the sound of Neal screaming.

He came for what felt like hours, a lifetime, like time frozen still to let him feel every molecule of his body come to life and burst apart.

And when time started moving again he kissed Neal’s neck and ear and cheek, cleaned them up and made the bed, and fell asleep in the satisfied circle of his lover’s arms.


End file.
